


Creep: A Love Story in Five Acts (and an Epilogue)

by lilinas



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilinas/pseuds/lilinas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This year I decided to participate in the Glee Secret Santa on Tumblr and the person I was gifting was nice enough to simply want some AU Kurtbastian. I've never tried to write on demand before, so to speak, and it's been a very interesting exercise! I expected this to be a lot shorter, but what the hell. I'm always too plotty . . .  :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Act I: Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> This year I decided to participate in the Glee Secret Santa on Tumblr and the person I was gifting was nice enough to simply want some AU Kurtbastian. I've never tried to write on demand before, so to speak, and it's been a very interesting exercise! I expected this to be a lot shorter, but what the hell. I'm always too plotty . . . :)

 

“I’m actually thinking emeralds. Or sapphires. I got over my diamond obsession in high school, really. A girl like me needs color, don’t you think?”

Kurt sighed and wandered away from where Rachel was mulling over earrings with Mr. Dixon of Dixon’s Fine Jewels. He’d already been in the shop for half an hour hovering over cases while Rachel tried to find just the right gems to set off the dress she’d chosen for her first ever appearance at the Tony Awards. He was sympathetic to her need to have everything be perfect, but honestly, a generic jewelry store like this one didn’t have much to offer him. He’d already perused the only case that held anything interesting - a few vintage brooches and a really lovely pendant watch - and now was left with a choice between normal, boring men’s rings and the requisite wristwatch display.

“Well my dress is white, so I really want something that’s going to pop with color, you know? Amber just seems so tame . . .”

He drifted in the direction of the rings. Wedding rings, mostly, with a few others thrown in, the kind of flashy rings men wore when they wanted to show off their financial success. Terribly gaudy. Nothing he’d consider wearing in a million years.

And then he spotted it. Toward the back of the display, nestled on a black cushion, was a ring like he’d never seen before. It was silver, he thought, a bright almost white silver that was flecked with tiny points of something much darker in a pattern that reminded Kurt of a negative image of a starry night sky. It was a beautiful ring. Perfect, really. It would be so perfect for . . . but no. No. Never happen.

He floated back toward the vintage case. Much safer here. And he really should have a second look at the pendant watch. It might be just the right color for his new purple cashmere cardigan.

* * *

 Kurt’s first impression of Sebastian Smythe had been one of dislike bordering on hatred. Well, maybe not his very first.

They’d met during Kurt’s junior year at NYU, when he was dating John Petrofsky, a history major on a tennis scholarship who had the kind of pecs only found on tennis players and who all of Kurt’s friends believed was totally out of his league. Even Kurt knew it was true. But John seemed completely smitten and showered Kurt with flowers, romantic nights of theater, and the hottest sex Kurt had ever dared to dream of. They had six weeks of idyllic passion . . . before Sebastian.

John’s roommate, Trevor, knew Sebastian because they were both architecture majors and had invited him to meet up with them one Saturday night at the Rocking Horse, a top 40 dance bar that Trevor referred to as “flexible,” which apparently meant anyone could be comfortable there, gay, straight or, as Trevor liked to put it, omni-sexual. Rachel was with them that night, with her boyfriend Alexander (practically her fiancé, as she liked to introduce him) and the five of them, along with another of Trevor’s friends, a red-haired girl whose name Kurt couldn’t remember but whose date was hard to forget, even with John’s fingers playing in the hair at the nape of his neck, had collectively taken over one corner of the club, happily mocking the people on the dance floor and enjoying their drinks with a gusto only seen in the newly-legal.

When the long, lean dreamboat with the sharp features and confident smirk walked up to the table Kurt’s very first thought was to wonder what that endless torso would feel like pressed up against his own. His second thought was that maybe this guy was Trevor’s way of outing himself to everyone as an omni-sexual, since the dreamboat’s gaze lingered a lot longer on the guys in the party than either of the girls. His third thought was to wonder if Trevor actually had any friends who weren’t hot as hell.

So really, white-hot hatred was all the way in fourth.

Trevor jumped up immediately and wrapped himself around the newcomer with a “Sebastian! Man! I’m so glad you came!” that did nothing to dispel the omni-sexual suspicion. Sebastian, for his part, nodded through introductions, saying nothing until Trevor got to John, when he honest-to-God purred (and who did that?), “Well hello there,” and stuck out his hand to shake. John had to take his own hand off the back of Kurt’s neck to clasp Sebastian’s, for which Kurt gave him his best what-the-fuck glare before sticking his hand out in turn for Sebastian to shake when Trevor introduced him.

Sebastian barely spared a glance for Kurt as their hands slid together and apart again. All of his attention was laser-focused on John, eyes running over his body in such a possessive way that by the time Sebastian had pulled a chair up directly across from his boyfriend not even John's long fingers settling back to caress his neck again could soothe Kurt's ruffled feathers.

And it all went downhill from there. Every time John spoke Sebastian turned his whole body toward him, orienting around him like north on a compass. Eventually, the two other couples got up to dance, and Trevor spotted some girl he knew and took off to talk to her so the three of them were left alone, John and Sebastian engaging in a spirited discussion about the intersection of history and architecture and how each informed the other while Kurt smiled and seethed. John’s hand had long since abandoned Kurt’s neck in favor of gesticulating to make point after point to Sebastian.

“You’re totally right!” John was now saying with an avid look on his face that Kurt really wanted to slap away. “Look at Prague. You can’t tell me that being surrounded by those buildings - it was like the evidence of their own independent culture staring them in the face.”

“Exactly,” Sebastian said. “Communism came and went, but those buildings are still there. That architecture is part of what it means to be Czech. You can’t forget your history when it’s written in stone everywhere you look.” He took a long swig from his bottle of Corona and unexpectedly turned his attention to Kurt. “But we must be boring --”

“Kurt,” Kurt supplied with a glare.

Sebastian inclined his head the tiniest bit. “Kurt. You’re not a history major, are you?”

Kurt was contemplating whether or not to answer when John’s fingers found his neck again and caressed gently. “Kurt’s in theatre. He just got cast as one of the leads in the winter musical.” The obvious pride in John’s voice didn’t mollify Kurt as much as it should have.

Sebastian pretended to be interested. “Let me guess. Cabaret?”

“Next to Normal,” Kurt informed him.

Sebastian raised a dismissive eyebrow even as he said, “Impressive.”

Kurt’s hand came down hard on John’s thigh and when their gazes met he inclined his head and rolled his eyes in the direction of the dance floor. To which John gave him a look that a mother would give a five-year-old who was having trouble sharing. Kurt got the message loud and clear. It would be rude to leave Sebastian all alone at the table. So now he was a babysitter, apparently.

Sebastian’s sharp eyes missed none of this. “You should give me your number, John,” he said casually. “I’ve got a paper due in a couple of weeks and I could really use some historical perspective.”

Kurt drained his glass in one swift gulp and turned to hand it to his boyfriend. “Gee, it looks like I need a refill. And it’s your turn.”

John smiled with good grace (his cluelessness really would have been endearing in almost any other situation) and took the glass from Kurt. “Do you need anything Sebastian?” he asked politely.

“I’m good, thanks,” Sebastian said, never taking his eyes off Kurt. It was as if he was anticipating this as much as Kurt was.

Kurt smiled at John until he was far enough away to be out of earshot then turned on Sebastian, bitch face firmly in place. “Did you seriously just ask my boyfriend for his number right in front of me?”

“I’m going to get it, too,” Sebastian grinned.

Kurt leaned in across the table. “Let me make this really clear. You need to point your dick in some other direction. He’s mine and he’s going to stay mine.”

“Oh, I think we both know that isn’t true.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sebastian took another long pull from his beer. “Please. You know as well as I do that you’re just a . . . transition for him.”

“Transition?”

“Either he just came out and you’re his halfway point from girls to boys, or he’s decided life is easier if you’re straight and you’re his halfway point back into the closet.” Sebastian leaned in as well, then, so that their faces were only inches apart. “The thing is, sweetheart, gay men like men. Not skinny, androgynous boys who still get mistaken for their mothers on the phone. I may not manage to get him into my bed, but I think we both know you’re not going to have him in yours much longer.”

Kurt wrinkled his nose as he leaned back away from Sebastian. “I’m sorry, were you talking? I was too overwhelmed by the odor to really pay attention. What is that, anyway? I was thinking sleaze, but now it’s starting to seem more like just desperation.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to retort but Rachel, the other girl (Velma? Veronica?) and their dates came back to the table at just that moment. Instead, he raised his bottle in a little salute and turned his charm on the straight guys. Until John turned up with Kurt’s drink.

If John seemed oblivious to Sebastian's outrageous flirting (which only got worse as the hour got later and the rounds piled up), at least the two girls could see what was happening. Rachel kept giving Kurt sympathetic glances and eventually the redhead (Vicky!) leaned across her date to whisper in John's ear. His eyebrows went up, but he stood, pulling Kurt with him, and led him out to the dance floor without a word to anyone else.

It was a slow song and they were in a gay-friendly bar, but Kurt still kept several inches between them as they swayed. He could feel Sebastian's eyes boring into his back and no way was he going to let that jerk think he was insecure and clingy. John didn't seem to care as much, though. He wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist and pulled their bodies flush.

"What is up with you tonight?" he asked as they rotated and Sebastian moved into Kurt's field of vision.

Kurt glared at his boyfriend. "You're kidding, right?" When John's only response was a head shake, Kurt leaned in closer to mutter, "That jackass. _Sebastian._ " He intoned it in a prissy voice because, really, what kind of pretentious name was Sebastian? "He's been all over you since he got here."

John looked truly puzzled. "He hasn't touched me since I shook his hand."

"Oh my God, you cannot be that clueless!" Kurt's voice went up despite his best efforts to stay quiet. "He asked for your phone number with me sitting right there.”

“That was just . . .”

“And he's staring at you right now."

He must have been louder than he'd thought, because Sebastian raised his eyes from John's ass to Kurt's face, smirked, and winked.

He fucking winked.

John, oblivious to the silent conversation Kurt was having with Sebastian, was still talking. "Who am I dancing with right now?"

Kurt dragged his eyes away from Sebastian. "That's not the point," he said severely.

"It is the point," John insisted. "You don't see me freaking out about guys staring at you."

Kurt gaped at him. "Because nobody stares at me!"

"Are you serious?" When Kurt just kept glaring John quickly scanned the room. "Green shirt at the far end of the bar. Hasn't taken his eyes off your ass since we started dancing."

Kurt was too skeptical to even worry about discretion. He craned his neck until he spotted Green Shirt. The guy was young and hot and definitely staring. To Kurt’s astonishment, he smiled and raised his glass when their eyes met.

John tugged him back into a closer hold than before, lips close to his ear. "In addition to Green Shirt," he said, "the bouncer did a double-take when you walked past him and when I got your drink a fairly scary-looking guy in leather asked me if I ever shared you."

Kurt scoffed at that, but he was starting to feel a little better. "I know you made that last one up. Nobody like that would come to a place like this."

John pulled Kurt’s arms up around his neck and rocked their hips together in a much dirtier version of the dancing they’d been doing. “You’re not the town pariah of Lima Ohio any more, Kurt. You have to stop thinking that way.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re like every gay man’s wet dream.”

At that John stopped dancing altogether, pulled Kurt’s body hard against his own, and kissed him until the breath caught in his throat and heat spread from their lips out in waves to the very ends of his fingers and toes. When John finally pulled away his eyes kept Kurt pinned in place with their intensity. “You’re my wet dream,” he said softly, “not to mention Green Shirt’s and the bouncer’s and that leather daddy’s, although I think you might not want to be his wet dream.”

Kurt laughed in spite of himself and pulled John back for more kissing. He could kiss John all day long, really. But John held back a little longer. “Stop thinking like the jock assholes you went to high school with. Or like Sebastian. You’re hot as hell, Kurt. You naked is pretty much all I ever think about. So who gives a shit what Sebastian wants? It’s what I want that counts, right?” He grinned and ground his hips against Kurt's, letting his already half-hard dick press into Kurt's leg.

They finished their dance and with the echo of his boyfriend's erection still tingling against his leg Kurt even managed to produce a smug smile as they passed Sebastian on his way to the bar. He barely flinched when long fingers wrapped around his upper arm and lips brushed his ear just long enough to murmur, "Enjoy him while you can."

For the next month Sebastian seemed to turn up everywhere they went, tossing flirtatious glances at John and femme-shaming insults at Kurt. So when John dumped him at the end of that month it didn’t matter that the name Sebastian never came up, or that as far as Kurt knew John never spoke to Sebastian in the aftermath. He was very sure that the over-tall rodent was somehow to blame for everything.


	2. Act II: Friends

 

 

The brooches and pendant watch were nice, but Kurt’s mind kept going back to the silver and black ring in the other case. And as Rachel surveyed herself in a mirror wearing one set of earrings after another he found his feet following his mind back to that case.  
  
It was made for Sebastian. Kurt didn’t even have to close his eyes to be able to see how it would look on his hand. If they lived in some alternate universe where the idea of Sebastian wearing his ring, or anyone’s really, wasn’t completely ludicrous.  
  
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Kurt was startled to find Mr. Dixon beside him, and he glanced pointedly in Rachel’s direction. “Oh, she wanted some time alone to see which pair she ‘bonded’ with,” the old man smiled. “You’re looking at the silver ring, aren’t you? It’s the one everyone falls in love with. Would you like me to get it out for you?”  
  
Kurt wanted him to get it out. He wanted to hold it and feel its weight and let himself imagine living in a world where he could buy it and offer it and have it accepted.  
  
“No, thank you,” he told Mr. Dixon quietly.  


* * *

“Don’t look, but there’s a girl in the back row who just can’t take her eyes off you.”

The sharply teasing voice startled Kurt so much that he had to suppress a gasp. It had been three weeks since the break up and the very last person Kurt expected to find whispering in his ear as he settled in for his Experimental Psychology lecture was Sebastian Smythe. Sebastian Smythe who Kurt was still very sure had somehow been a factor in John’s decision to break up with him. Sebastian Smythe who Kurt had never seen in this class before.

He glared at Sebastian and opened his mouth to eviscerate him with a perfect retort, but Sebastian, without waiting for permission, climbed past him, plopped down in the next chair, and pulled out his laptop as if he fully intended to stay.

Kurt’s mouth snapped closed. His brain searched for some reason, any reason, that his mortal enemy was sitting inches away from him calmly preparing for class. Sebastian must know. That was the only explanation. Sebastian knew he and John had broken up. He was probably sleeping with John already - he’d probably just come from John’s bed - and he was going to drag it out and spend the next hour making Kurt miserable with anticipation of the final confirming blow. Because what Kurt really needed right now was something to make him even more miserable than he already was.

The lecture hall was still only half-full. It would be a simple thing to get up and sit somewhere else. But he was Kurt Hummel, he didn’t let things faze him and he certainly wasn’t going to let Sebastian think he had any power over him whatsoever. So he stayed put and waited, staring at Sebastian expectantly.

“What?” Sebastian finally asked as the silence dragged on, as if there couldn’t possibly be anything unusual going on.

“I’m just waiting for the punch line. Hoping, in vain I’m sure, that it’s something more creative than ‘She’s probably a lesbian.’”

Sebastian grimaced. “Ooh! That’s totally what I was going to go for.” He threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Now I’ve got nothing.” He turned his attention to his computer, typing away as if he really was preparing to take notes.

Kurt couldn’t hold it in any longer. “What are you doing here, Sebastian?”

Sebastian glanced up briefly then back down at the laptop screen. “I’m in this class.”

“I’ve never seen you here.”

“I didn’t say I ever actually _came_ to the class.” He paused in his typing and considered. “No, I take that back. I did come to the first class. Then I realized I’d been duped and never returned.”

Kurt couldn’t help asking. Of all the questions zinging around in his head it seemed like the safest one. “Duped?”

Sebastian finally turned his full attention on Kurt. “Don’t try to tell me you don’t think so too. It’s a classic bait and switch. Experimental Psychology? They make it sound like you’re going to learn about all kinds of cool experimental techniques for getting inside someone’s head, then you get here and it’s all, ‘define hypothesis’ and ‘which one is the control group?’ I learned that crap in fourth grade. I figured I’d skim the textbook and show up for the final. I’m surprised you actually waste your time on this.”

“Well some of us take our education seriously,” Kurt retorted. He wasn’t about to tell Sebastian that he felt exactly the same disappointment in the class and that only the thought of how much money he, his father, and the U.S. Government were paying for him to be here kept him coming to the stultifyingly boring lectures. Because Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe were not going to have anything in common. Ever.

The lecture hall was filling up with students, but the professor had yet to show up, so Kurt decided to just take the plunge.

“Why are you here?” he persisted. “Today’s not the final.”

“I heard you broke up with John.” He tossed it off so casually, eyes on his computer, long fingers still tapping keys.

Kurt stiffened. It still hurt, and it hurt even more to hear it from Sebastian’s mouth. “John broke up with me,” he said tersely.

“Well, I did say you were going to lose him, didn’t I?”

“I knew it! You’re just here to gloat.” Kurt tried to keep his voice down but heads were turning anyhow. “Yes, you managed to break us up. And now that you’ve registered your ‘I told you so’ I’d really like it if you would go crawl back in your hole and leave me to die of boredom in peace.”

Sebastian turned innocently surprised eyes on Kurt. As if he’d never flirted outrageously with John right in front of Kurt. As if he’d never flat-out told Kurt he was going to steal his boyfriend. “I broke you up? Sweetheart, you did that all by yourself. Just like you’re going to do with the next guy and the one after that.”

Kurt really should just get up and leave. He wanted to. But a tiny stubborn corner of his brain needed to figure out why Sebastian was doing this. There was this weird kind of sincerity coming from him, despite his innocent act, and Kurt couldn’t come up with any reason other than gloating that Sebastian would be voluntarily subjecting himself to Kurt’s company. It was a puzzle that he knew would drive him crazy if he couldn’t solve it.

“And how am I going to lose them?” he asked. “By being too girly, I suppose.”

Sebastian shook his head. “You’re making one of the classic relationship mistakes. It’s gonna bite you in the ass every time. And not in the fun way.”

“Oh, please, enlighten me with all your vast experience of monogamy.”

“Hey, just because I chose the extensive over the intensive doesn’t mean I don’t know how these things work,” Sebastian said. “But you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You’re going to have to figure it out for yourself.”

“So now you’re the relationship fairy?” Kurt asked.

“No way. You’re the relationship fairy. I’m the enjoy-them-and-walk-away-clean fairy.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Kurt muttered, “the condom only covers your dick.”

To his surprise Sebastian laughed out loud. “That’s the Kurt I was expecting! You have got to get over this morose thing. It’s no fun for me.”

At that moment the tweed-clad professor appeared in the doorway of the lecture hall and bumbled his way to the podium. His perfect timing gave Kurt the opportunity to busy himself with his own laptop and hide the fact that Sebastian had finally managed to shock him speechless.

The professor began the lecture but Kurt tuned out his droning, monotonous voice.

Sebastian was not out trying to fuck his ex. Sebastian wasn’t even really gloating over Kurt’s unhappiness. Sebastian, and this may have been the most important point for Kurt, definitely wasn’t walking on eggshells like Rachel and Alexander and everyone else, treating Kurt like he was about to break at any second. And the only reason Kurt could fathom that Sebastian was sitting here in the world’s most boring class pretending to take notes, was that he wanted to be. Which made no sense at all.

A nudge on his arm pulled him out of his own head to find Sebastian had turned his laptop around so Kurt could see what he’d written.

_Twenty bucks says Mr. Pretentious Tweed’s a total sexual freak who spends his weekends at Strand getting tied down and flogged._

Kurt raised his eyes from the screen to Sebastian’s face. He looked, really looked, trying to spot the punch line - some kind of sign that somehow he was the butt of this joke. But it wasn’t there. And as he looked, Sebastian raised one eyebrow, like a challenge, or some kind of offer. It was an expression Kurt had seen before, at least as many times, he now realized, as he’d seen the predatory way Sebastian had always looked at John.

Kurt turned back to his own computer. _You can’t make that bet,_ he typed. _There’s no way to prove if it’s true._

Sebastian made a tiny, derisive sound and typed furiously. _Please! We’re legal. We could totally take that field trip._

_Only if I’m the one holding the leash,_ Kurt typed back. Sebastian made a noise that was half shocked laugh, half moan. Kurt was surprised by how much he liked that.

Much later, when people asked Kurt and Sebastian how they became friends, Kurt would tell them that he broke up with a boyfriend and somehow ended up with custody of Sebastian. (“You should have had a better lawyer,” Sebastian would retort.)

Sebastian would always say they bonded over a mutual interest in S&M. (To which Kurt’s standard reply was, “Because the only way to shut him up is with a ball gag.”)

They always kept the real story to themselves.


	3. Act III: Benefits

 

“Wait,” Kurt called to Mr. Dixon’s retreating back.   
  
The old man turned with a smile.  
  
“I think I will look at it, if you don’t mind.”  
  
Mr. Dixon nodded knowingly and reached behind the counter for a large ring of keys. He flipped unerringly to the one that fit the ring case. Without a word he popped the glass up, lifted the little black pillow, and held it out to Kurt.   
  
Kurt took the ring and set it in the palm of his hand, circling its edge with the tip of one finger. Out from behind the barrier of the glass it was even more beautiful, the black stars creating a kind of negative reflection against the silver background. It was unexpected and oppositional in a way that captured Sebastian perfectly.   
  
“It’s one of a kind,” Mr. Dixon said. “My daughter found it. The designer works as a metalsmith at Renaissance fairs, if you can believe it. I bought everything he had, but this was the only man’s ring.”  
  
“Mr. Dixon!” Rachel’s deceptively sweet tones summoned the old man from across the room; she was holding up one of the pairs of earrings she’d been trying. Mr. Dixon nodded to her and smiled at Kurt again.  
  
“Take as long as you like with it,” he said as he went to answer Rachel’s summons.  
  
Kurt closed his fingers around the ring and stood, just holding it, as the metal warmed to the temperature of his skin.  
  


* * *

“Shit!”

Kurt flung himself backward on his bed and let the book he’d been trying to read slide to the floor with a thump. He needed to get it together. He was six months away from graduating and he needed more focus, not less, as he got closer to the end of his academic career and, hopefully, the beginning of his real one. He needed to stop thinking about Thierry.

He’d hoped working on his drama lit essay would take his mind off the break up for at least a little while, but the mirrors-inside-mirrors complexity of Six Characters in Search of an Author just made his head spin and his brain seemed to want to latch onto any stray thought to try and regain its equilibrium. Unfortunately, all of his stray thoughts were about his ex.

He reached over the side of the bed and picked the book up with a sigh. Like it or not, he had to wrap his brain around this stupid play before Monday. But he hadn’t gotten more than six words in when three sharp raps sounded on his door. It was Sebastian, of course. Even his knock sounded overconfident.

“Get dressed; we’re going out,” Sebastian said the second door opened.

“‘Hi Kurt. How are you making out?’ ‘Oh, you know, good days and bad days …’”

Sebastian ignored him and pushed his way into the room. “I have to go to this stupid art show for my Contemporary Visions class and I can’t survive it without someone to help me mock all the pointless pretension. So put on one of your pointlessly pretentious outfits and let’s go.”

Kurt closed the door and stood with his back against it glaring at Sebastian. “I’m not going out with you. I just got dumped, in case you forgot. If you’d stop thinking about yourself for ten seconds you might realize that giggling over silly pictures isn’t what I need right now.”

Sebastian enthroned himself in Kurt’s desk chair and spun it around to face the door. “You got dumped three weeks ago. It’s time to get over it. And giggling over silly pictures is exactly what you need right now. Haven’t you ever heard of distraction?”

“I’m too depressed,” Kurt said, dropping onto his bed and picking up the battered library copy of Six Characters.

Sebastian heaved an aggrieved sigh and dropped his head against the back of the chair. “Okay,” he said, staring up at the ceiling tiles, “how long is it going to take this time?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kurt’s eyes were on the page, but he heard the wheels of the chair slide along the floor and Sebastian floated into his peripheral vision.

“I have nursed you through three breakups in the past year,” Sebastian said, “and I think it’s perfectly reasonable to request some kind of timeline so I know when I can expect you to be fun again.”

Kurt left the page just long enough to make a face at Sebastian. “I’m so sorry my romantic tragedy is interfering with your entertainment. And it’s only been two breakups.”

“Matthew,” Sebastian counted off on his fingers, “that dude from Florida with the freaky hair, and Thierry.” He exaggerated the pronunciation of the last name in his perfect French accent.

“Chad doesn’t count. We only went out for a couple of weeks.”

“Then how come I had to spend a month listening to you boo-hoo about how no one would ever make you feel the way he did?”

Kurt gave up pretending to read and just glared at Sebastian reproachfully. “None of this is helping me feel better, just so you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said with mock concern, “you seem to be under the mistaken impression that I’m in this for your benefit. This is about me, sweetheart. Your job is to keep me entertained. And you are totally falling down on the job.”

But Kurt wasn’t really listening any more. Not with Sebastian’s laundry list of his exes ringing in his ears. Matthew, the perfect man, sweet, hot (they were all hot, really, Kurt had finally been forced to accept that John was right about how desirable he could be), who seemed to have a magical supply of flowers and always brought something gorgeous, no matter how last-minute their plans were. Chad, the cocky musician Rachel dragged him to see one night, who pointed him out halfway through his set and dedicated a song to “the dazzling boy in the corner who’s totally going home with me tonight,” then took him to dinner instead and was a perfect gentleman. And Thierry. Thierry who swept Kurt off his feet the way only a Frenchman could. All of them had seemed, in their turn, like they might be “the one.” And all of them, sooner or later, had dumped him, with frustratingly similar accusations of his self-centeredness, his lack of effort.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” The question was rhetorical, but he knew better than to hope that Sebastian wouldn’t have an answer.

“I’ve been telling you since John …”

Kurt pushed himself up on the bed. “I don’t want to hear it, Glinda. I’m sick of your whole ‘you have to figure it out for yourself’ routine. If you’re not going to be useful then just get your ass off my chair and find someone else to help you eviscerate the hard work of perfectly innocent artists.”

Sebastian templed his fingers under his chin and regarded Kurt somberly. “Okay, I’ll make a deal with you. If I tell you exactly what you’re doing wrong, will you ditch this funk and come help me survive this art thing?”

Kurt considered. “Not that I think you actually have any clue, but yes.”

“False advertising,” Sebastian said immediately.

“What?”

“False advertising,” he repeated. “You sell yourself to these guys as this big romantic when really, you’re about as romantic as I am.”

“I knew it’d be bullshit,” Kurt gloated. “You’d better go now if you’re going to find someone else to sucker into going out with you.”

“I’m serious Kurt.” And, Kurt reluctantly admitted to himself, he probably was. When Sebastian was being snide he never tried to hide it.

“Everybody knows I like romance,” Kurt said.

“You do like romance. You love it when a guy makes you the center of his world. You love the gifts and the flowers and the wining and dining, it lights you up like a fucking Roman candle.”

“You’re kind of making my point for me,” Kurt said, but something in Sebastian’s tone was making him uncomfortable and he got up from the bed to replace the library book on his shelf, trying to put a little distance between himself and Sebastian in the tiny room.

Sebastian swung the chair around, keeping himself oriented on Kurt as he fidgeted with his books. “Wanting to be romanced doesn’t make you a romantic, Kurt. It just makes you a narcissist.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kurt turned around to face Sebastian again, trying to keep up his dismissive facade but failing, he knew, because Sebastian’s words were hitting perilously close to things, accusations that all of his exes had thrown at him as their relationships were imploding.

“Guys who like to do that sort of thing tend to expect some reciprocation.”

Kurt found he wasn’t much liking this new, “helpful” Sebastian. Sarcasm he could brush off. Painful truth was much too uncomfortable. “I reciprocate,” he insisted.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Really? How?”

“I sent Thierry flowers when he got his acceptance to grad school.”

Sebastian laughed out loud at that, making Kurt wish he hadn’t said anything at all. “And what did Thierry do for you when you won the Danzer Prize?”

Sebastian knew full well what Thierry had done. Kurt had gushed about it for at least a week. He’d booked the observation deck on the roof of the astronomy building and had the six telescopes there trained on all the nearest stars so Kurt could “see who he’d be keeping company with.” He’d brought a picnic of bread and paté and champagne. He’d even hired a violinist from the music department to play Italian love songs while they danced. Then he’d brought Kurt back to his dorm room and worshipped him, slowly, by candlelight, while Kurt floated in a haze of champagne and feelings he was sure were love.

“Thierry,” Sebastian’s voice brought Kurt back to the real world with a thump, “in your own words, made all your ‘fairytale dreams come true’ whereas you typed your credit card number into the flowers.com web site.”

“Okay, fine,” Kurt threw up his hands in surrender, “I suck. I’m self-involved and uncaring and … whatever you said before …”

“Narcissistic,” Sebastian helpfully supplied.

“Narcissistic. Perfect. So now that you’ve destroyed my last shred of self-esteem you’re free to go enlighten someone else’s life with your ‘friendship.’” He pulled the door opened in obvious invitation but Sebastian just leaned back in the chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“You haven’t heard my solution yet,” he said calmly.

Kurt closed the door with a resigned sigh. “I just know I’m going to love this,” he said.

“You’ve got to stop. Give up this whole grand romance thing and relax. And it wouldn’t kill you to have some fun. Find some guy whose only idea of reciprocation is I-suck-your-dick-you-suck-mine and just fuck him.”

Kurt was too demoralized to even be surprised. “So your big solution is that I turn into you?”

“Why not?” Sebastian shrugged.

“Because, call me crazy but I don’t think having meaningless sex with some stranger is going to make me feel better about myself.”

Sebastian stared at Kurt for a long time then, in a way that made Kurt feel uncomfortably like a bug under glass. “It wouldn’t necessarily have to be a stranger,” he finally said.

“Who else am I going to …” It came to him then, shocking as a bucket of cold water in the face. What Sebastian was saying without really saying it. What all this had apparently been leading up to. “You?!”

“Why not?” Sebastian said nonchalantly, but he swung the chair around and began to play with the little knick-knacks on the shelf beside Kurt’s desk.

Kurt wasn’t quite sure what to say. He felt like he’d inadvertently stepped into a minefield that he’d had no idea was there. Sebastian wanted to fuck him? Sebastian wanted to fuck him enough that it was making him weirdly uncomfortable? Sebastian wanted to fuck him?

Kurt leaned back against the door for support and licked suddenly dry lips. “Um,” he fumbled for the right answer, “because we’re friends? Because sex messes up friendships?”

Sebastian spun around at that, his mocking face firmly back in place. Seeing it made Kurt feel much safer. “Sex messes up friendships between men and women. Last time I checked neither of us is a woman, although in your case it might just be a semantic difference.”

“Is that was this has all been about?” Kurt was still trying to force his lungs to work properly. “You want to have sex with me?”

Sebastian shrugged. “You seriously need some casual sex. You don’t want it to be a stranger. I’m not fucking anybody at the moment …”

“What do you get out of it?” Kurt asked.

“Like I said, I’m not fucking anybody at the moment. It’s always better to be fucking than not fucking. And you know I’m not going to freak when you don’t declare your undying devotion, or expect you to be anything that you’re not. We live in the same building - you can’t deny the convenience factor …”

“But you’re not attracted to me.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows came together in what looked like genuine puzzlement. “When did I ever say that?”

Kurt gaped. He couldn’t help it. All Sebastian ever seemed to do was make fun of his femininity. Strictly speaking, he’d never actually said he wasn’t attracted to those qualities, but it was one of the fundamental laws of Kurt’s universe was that Sebastian enjoyed his mind and simply tolerated everything else. Kurt couldn’t deny that there had been moments, maybe more than he was willing to admit, when he’d fantasized about Sebastian’s long legs wrapped around his, or Sebastian’s nimble fingers stroking his skin, but he would have bet his entire future on the fact that Sebastian barely thought of him as a man, much less an object of desire.

It had to be a joke. Of course it was. Just Sebastian’s way of trying to break him out of his depression so that he could get what he really wanted - Kurt’s companionship in tearing apart the wanna-be’s who tried to look cool by drooling over indifferent art.

He laughed, or tried to; what came out was a pretty sickly imitation of mirth. “Fine, you win. I’ll come with you. If you’re desperate enough to make up something that ridiculous then the least I can do is help you out.”

“Ridiculous?” Sebastian seemed to realize now that he had Kurt hooked. His discomfort was gone, and in it’s place was a look Kurt had seen on Sebastian’s face hundreds of times. But it had never once been directed at him.

“Come on, Sebastian, this is insane. You’re not into me. We have no chemistry. I’ll come with you so just drop it and we can get some dinner and go make fun of people all night long if you want.”

But Sebastian was standing up now, moving closer to where Kurt was pressed against the door, pinning him to it with that predatory gaze that Kurt was so familiar with. It was a game for Sebastian, he knew, just a game, but he also knew that way down in some secret place he barely admitted to himself, all those times he’d watch Sebastian on the prowl after some other guy, he had longed for this. Longed to just once be the one Sebastian wanted.

Casual sex was starting to sound pretty damned good.

Sebastian was right in front of him now, and Kurt’s breath caught sharp in his throat as those green eyes came closer and one long finger reached deliberately to trace the line of his jaw, sending desire fluttering through Kurt’s belly, coming to rest, light as a feather, in the cleft of his chin. He exerted no pressure, but Kurt tilted his face up anyhow as Sebastian leaned down.

Kurt managed to suck in the tiniest gasp of air before their noses brushed, then breathing was no longer an option as Sebastian’s lips landed, in a barely-there touch, at the corner of Kurt’s mouth. Sebastian wasn’t having any trouble breathing. Kurt could feel the warm flutter of it against his cheek. He tried hard to hold still, but Sebastian’s lips just rested there, so fucking close but not where he wanted them, just waiting, and there was no option, really, but to turn his head into them and ask for more. He felt more than heard a tiny chuckle shake Sebastian’s chest; their mouths slid together, open and soft and tantalizingly gentle, and Sebastian’s tongue swept teasingly along the inside of Kurt’s bottom lip. Kurt’s own tongue chased after it, but it was gone as quickly as it came, then Sebastian’s lips were pulling away too and Kurt had to stifle a whine of protest.

“You’re probably right,” Sebastian said casually (although Kurt was sure he could hear a tremble in his voice), “no chemistry at all. I guess we should just go to dinner like you said.”

He’d half turned away before Kurt’s brain caught up with the rest of his body. Without any conscious decision on his part, one arm shot out and caught Sebastian around the waist, pulling him back hard against his body, and the other found the back of his head and used it to leverage himself up on his toes to capture Sebastian’s lips in a proper kiss. His tongue was in Sebastian’s mouth almost before their lips touched and the taste, the taste was everything he’d ever imagined (and he was only just now admitting to himself how much he’d imagined): hot and male and dark in a way that Kurt knew he’d never be able to fully explain.

Sebastian froze for just a moment, and Kurt had the distinct and satisfying feeling that he’d been taken by surprised by the passion in the kiss, but he was Sebastian Smythe so of course he recovered quickly, leaning in,  trapping Kurt up against the door and taking control of the kiss, his own tongue pushing into Kurt’s mouth like he was just as desperate to taste as Kurt had been. Pressed into the door, the only thing Kurt could move were his hands, the one on Sebastian’s neck trying to pull him even closer and the one around his waist tracing up the endless column of his spine and back down again to cup his ass and pull there too. And as their pelvises pressed together Sebastian groaned and Kurt felt it, Sebastian’s dick, thickening against his own crotch.

Sebastian was hard. For him.

Kurt’s own cock responded instantly and their grinding took on a whole new dimension as their mouths nipped and sucked their hands grabbed and groped. Sebastian fumbled at the buttons on Kurt’s shirt, trying to get it off without putting any distance between them at all, and Kurt pulled frantically on the hem of Sebastian’s button-down, pulling it out of his pants so he could slide his hands up under it, all the way to Sebastian’s shoulders and halfway down his sleeves.

Kurt’s hands on his bare skin seemed to fill Sebastian with renewed urgency and he pulled back enough to rip his shirt up over his head while Kurt attacked his pants. Clothes flew fast and furious then; they were both naked in seconds and Sebastian wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist and honest-to-God pitched him onto the narrow bed, dropping on top of him to latch back onto his mouth like his life depended on it.

They were both experienced, they’d both been with enough people to have learned all kinds of tricks and techniques for drawing out pleasure, but Kurt’s brain was spinning from the suddenness of it all and it felt so fucking good, pressed into the bed under Sebastian’s hard body, their cocks sliding against each other, that they kissed and rutted frantically like teenagers wary of interruption. Kurt felt the pleasure begin to peak much too soon and he really hoped Sebastian was close too because there was no stopping it. Sebastian’s mouth left his to bite its way down Kurt’s neck, the sharp stabs of pleasure/pain doing nothing to help Kurt hold off his orgasm.

“God, fuck, I’m gonna come, I’m sorry,” Kurt gasped, pushing up hard against Sebastian, fingers clutching at his ass.

“Jesus, Kurt,” Sebastian groaned against his skin and that was it - Sebastian’s hoarse invocation of his name sent Kurt plunging over the edge, falling into an ecstatic oblivion that only intensified when he heard the short, strangled cry that had to be Sebastian following him down.

Kurt kept his eyes closed when Sebastian’s weight finally settled, lax and boneless, on top of him. There was still the smallest part of him that thought maybe this was all some elaborate joke on him, that Sebastian was going to drop some devastating punch line and leave him there.

“You sound even better when you come than I thought you would.”

His eyes flew open. Sebastian wasn’t even looking at him, he was looking around the room, searching for something. “You don’t have any tissues?” he asked, rolling gingerly off of Kurt and settling on his back with a sigh.

“Bottom drawer,” Kurt said, pointing, and Sebastian reached over to pull them out. He handed a few to Kurt, then casually cleaned their mingled come off of his own abdomen.

Kurt knew he should leave it alone, but he just couldn’t. “You’ve thought about what I sound like when I come?”

Sebastian rolled over and the smirk was back, but with it was the familiar challenge, backed by relish, that was Sebastian’s usual banter face. “Well with that soprano you’ve got I thought maybe I’d get to find out what it felt like to fuck a woman,” his hand caressed down Kurt’s chest and flat belly, stopping just shy of his softening cock, “but alas.”

Kurt knew he should snark back, prove that he was as unaffected as Sebastian seemed to be, but his brain was still stuck on the fact that Sebastian had thought about it.

“So what do think of my casual sex plan?” Sebastian asked when it was clear Kurt didn’t have a comeback.

“I think,” Kurt said slowly, “that next time I’d like to have some actual sex in the casual sex.”

Sebastian’s smirk blossomed into a full-fledged grin.

“Why are you so excited about this?” Kurt couldn’t help asking.

“I told you, I’m not fucking anybody. So now instead of having to get dressed up and go out and find some willing guy, I can just come here.” He wrapped his arms around Kurt and pulled him close. “And fuck you.”

“I’m not your booty call, Smythe.”

“Uh, you are now. And I’m yours. Like it or not, we are official fuck buddies.”

Kurt winced. “Not if you’re going to call it that, we’re not.”

“Oh, excuse me for offending your delicate sensibilities. What would you like to call it?”

Kurt tried to consider, but Sebastian’s fingers were stroking up and down his arm and the sensation was making it very hard to think. “Friends who fuck,” he finally said.

Sebastian’s hand stopped. “How is that any different from fuck buddies?” he asked incredulously.

“It’s different to me. Maybe it’s the alliteration,” Kurt said and, throwing all caution to the wind, he leaned forward to press his lips to Sebastian’s. He really wanted taste the inside of Sebastian’s mouth again.

“Alliteration my ass,” Sebastian pulled back to scoff. “You just always have to have the last word.”


	4. Act IV: Roommates

“So, what do you think?” Mr. Dixon popped up again at Kurt’s side. Kurt wondered if he was beginning to suspect that Rachel was nothing but a ditherer and that he might actually be the better bet for a sale.

“It’s exquisite,” Kurt said simply. He made to hand the ring back but the old man shook it off.

“Try it on,” he insisted. “It’ll look wonderful on you.”

Kurt shook his head and was surprised to feel himself blushing. “No, it’s not . . . it wouldn’t be for me.” He smiled a little at the jeweler and again tried to hand over the ring.

The man took it reluctantly and set it back in the case on its little velvet pillow. “It would certainly make a very special gift,” he smiled knowingly, “for a special man?”

“I don’t really think the man in question is quite ready for this kind of gift,” Kurt smiled back. And he probably never will be, he added in his head.

* * *

The apartment was small but clean, two little bedrooms, a living room, a tiny galley kitchen, and one bathroom, about which Kurt was already making a mental list of rules as he deposited the box that contained his toiletries carefully on the floor.

"What the fuck do you have in here?!" Sebastian gasped, staggering a bit under his load on the way to Kurt's bedroom.

"Why are you carrying my box?" Kurt asked, hurrying after him.

Sebastian dropped the box unceremoniously on Kurt's new four-poster (his graduation present to himself) and, relieved of its weight, reached for the ceiling to stretch the kinks out of his back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were being territorial about that. I’ll be sure to let your scrawny ass haul all the rest of your heavy stuff up three flights.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Why are you picking a fight with me over who carries whose boxes?”

“Is this long stick thing supposed to bend this way?” Rachel called from the living room.

Sebastian’s face went white and he rushed past Kurt to rescue the antique lacrosse stick that had been a graduation present from his grandparents.  
For the hundredth time Kurt wondered if this wasn’t the worst idea in the history of ideas.

It was all Rachel’s fault. Her graduation from NYADA had occurred two months before Kurt’s from NYU and since she didn’t need to be close to her campus she and Alexander, now engaged for real, wanted a bigger place. They’d found something perfect, but they couldn’t afford to move until they sublet their old apartment.

Kurt was still in desperate-studying-for-finals mode; somewhere in the back of his brain he had figured that he’d just go home for summer break and decide what to do from there. It hadn’t quite hit him yet that there was no more summer break. That it was all just life from here on out. So when Rachel started pestering him about moving into her apartment Kurt had laughed her off. Yes, it was a pretty little space with some really nice architectural detail, but he couldn’t afford it so that was that.

They’d been having dinner out one night near the end of the term; it had been meant to be just the three of them but Sebastian had tagged along, claiming nothing better to do. By that point Kurt had landed an after-graduation job assisting an up-and-coming Off Off Broadway costume designer that would let him keep his own hours and still go on auditions. Sebastian had been accepted to the NYU graduate program in architecture, and Kurt had spent more time than he was willing to admit to himself obsessing over what would happen to their friends-who-fuck arrangement when physical proximity was no longer a factor.

Their entrees had just arrived when Rachel had suddenly squealed and clapped her hands, startling the poor waiter so badly he nearly dropped risotto primavera in her lap. “I’ve got it!” She’d pointed a finger at Sebastian. “You and Kurt can move in together!”

Kurt and Sebastian had exchanged glances, both panicking just a little bit. They’d been careful to keep their arrangement secret. The last thing Kurt wanted was for his friends to know that he was having (amazing) meaningless sex with anyone, let alone Sebastian Smythe, world’s biggest gay player.

But before he could freak out too badly Rachel had continued her monologue, prattling on about how they were friends, almost best friends really, and it made so much sense for them to share the apartment. She had gone on and on, making point after point, never giving Kurt a moment to refute any of them and eventually, to his incalculable surprise, he heard Sebastian’s voice chiming in that it wasn’t a bad idea, actually.

“You don’t have a place to live, I don’t want to live on campus, and we know we can get along, right?” His expression was all innocence, except for his eyes which had twinkled at Kurt mischievously as he twirled pasta on his fork.

That had put Kurt in a position where protesting too much would look just as suspicious as appearing too eager.

The thing was, Kurt thought as he plopped down on his bare new bed and listened to the tones of Sebastian’s and Rachel’s and Alex’s voices from the living room, he liked having sex with Sebastian. He loved having sex with Sebastian. And that was not good. Meaningless as he reminded himself over and over that it was, it didn’t feel meaningless when Sebastian was stretched out alongside or over or under him, murmuring his name, drawing out the R until it became almost a growl; touching his face with exquisitely gentle hands and looking at him like he was the only person who mattered in the entire world.

Kurt was sure that Sebastian looked that way at everyone he slept with. Sex itself was what was meaningful for Sebastian, so every partner he had, for that couple of hours, was the only person who mattered in the entire world. The problem was that he found himself wanting to look at Sebastian the same way, and they both knew that for him looks like that meant something. So he held back, stayed casual, tried to let himself get lost in the sensations instead of the person creating them. He almost never, when they were naked, called Sebastian by name.

Kurt had insisted right from the beginning that they were both free to see other men. He knew it was inevitable, in Sebastian’s case, and he even found, to his surprise, that there were occasions when he himself wanted to take advantage of being able to get off quick and dirty with some stud he’d been grinding with on the dance floor of this or that club. He always told Sebastian when he’d been with someone else - that was another agreement they’d made. Sebastian, unsurprisingly, never bothered to confess his own dalliances but, to his surprise, Kurt found that didn’t really bother him. It made them seem insignificant, not worth mentioning, and he made sure they were always scrupulously safe with each other.

So they’d found a kind of equilibrium. And it was good. Perfectly fine, really. And if Kurt sometimes ached with the force of his desire to be more to Sebastian than a best friend and semi-frequent bedmate, well, that was just the price he had to pay. Being with Sebastian was worth it.

But living with Sebastian? Having Sebastian’s life and Sebastian’s choices staring him in the face every day? Having to listen to what went on behind the closed door of Sebastian’s room? God forbid, walking in at the wrong time, unexpected, and seeing . . . It was one thing to know that Sebastian fucked other guys, quite another to find it happening in his own apartment.

And yet, here he was. Hauling boxes up from a rented van. Planning how Sebastian’s things and his could coexist in the medicine cabinet. Wondering if Sebastian would be louder when they fucked tonight, since Kurt didn’t have to worry any more about setting an example as the R.A.

Kurt sighed and scanned the bare walls of his room. This wasn’t an apartment. It was a trap. A trap that he knew there was nothing he could do to avoid. No matter what, it seemed, he was screwed. He was simultaneously too close to Sebastian and not close enough. Eventually he was going to make some big, dramatic mistake and that would be it.

He was still feeling very unsettled and pinched inside when he finally made his appearance back in the living room. Rachel was in one corner yammering on the phone, Alex was in another rummaging through the mini-cooler of beer he’d brought along. Sebastian was just coming in from the stairwell, another huge box in his arms. "Last one!" he huffed as he hip-checked the door closed. The sight of his muscles flexing with effort did nothing to improve Kurt’s mood.

“Rachel’s ordering pizza,” Alex said, popping open a bottle and handing it to Kurt.

“I’ll take one of those if you don’t mind.” Sebastian dropped the box on the kitchen counter and it clattered alarmingly.

“Christ, could you be more careful?” Kurt said sharply.

Sebastian shrugged and neatly caught the bottle of beer Alex tossed at him. “Relax. I’m sure your precious knick-knacks are fine.”

“I told you not to carry my boxes!” Kurt rushed to tear the tape off the box and pull it open, but Sebastian shouldered him aside.

“I was kidding, your highness. It’s the kitchenware my mom sent.” He gave the box an emphatic, rattling shake. “All metal and wood. Perfectly safe.”

Kurt glared at him. “So that’s funny to you? Pretending you broke my stuff?”

Sebastian’s beer bottle hit the counter with a thud. “Okay, would you care to explain what’s got your panties in such a twist today, or are we just supposed to guess?”

Rachel had hung up the phone and Kurt glanced at her just in time to catch her exchanging a puzzled look with Alex. Which just pissed him off more. He turned back to Sebastian and he knew he was overreacting, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“You really want to do this now?” he asked through clenched teeth. “In front of my friends?”

Sebastian looked stunned, like he was utterly clueless, which only seemed to feed the flames of Kurt’s indignation. “I’m being perfectly nice to _our_ friends. You’re the one acting like a prissy bitch. ”

“Oh, yes, by all means call me a girl. Because that never gets old.”

“Kurt . . .” Rachel began, but Sebastian interrupted her.

“I don’t know what bug crawled up your ass, but hey, if you want to act like a bitch don’t expect me not to call you on it!”

“So am I just too insignificant for you come up with a more creative insult?” he sneered. “Because I’m pretty sure my dick has been in your mouth enough times that even you must have managed to realize that I’m a boy.”

Well that was one way to spring a trap.

“What the fuck, Kurt?!” Sebastian stared at him like he’d never seen him before.

Kurt pulled his face into an exaggerated mask surprise. “Oops, I guess that cat’s out of the bag.” He turned his back on Sebastian. “Yes,” he told Alex and a very stunned-looking Rachel, who both appeared to be trying to disappear into the woodwork, “we fuck. We’re friends who fuck. Roommates who fuck, now, I guess, although I wouldn’t bet on that being true by this time tomorrow.”

“Kurt, for Christ’s sake . . .” Sebastian sounded as stunned as he’d looked when Kurt outed them.

“Because, you know, Sebastian doesn’t do meaningful,” he told Alex, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Sebastian can fuck, God knows, he can fuck, but really, he has the emotional depth of a doorknob. This roommate thing has got to be some big fucking joke, right? But I can’t figure out the punch line.”

“Kurt,” Sebastian’s voice was quiet this time, strained, unnatural.

“I knew it. I knew this was a mistake.” Kurt couldn’t turn around, couldn’t bear to face Sebastian, so he spoke Rachel instead. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

Pressure was breaking in Kurt’s chest, and he knew tears wouldn’t be far behind. He wanted Sebastian to say something, anything, willed him to at least try to fix this somehow, but the only sound in the room was his own harsh breathing. Finally, Rachel reached out a tentative hand and said his name. That was the final straw. “Don’t,” he choked and ran for the relative safety of his room, slamming the door emphatically in his wake.

Tears came then, but he didn’t make a sound. He’d long ago perfected the art of silent crying. He could hear quiet voices murmuring in the other room but no actual words. Eventually the front door opened and closed and all was still. He had no idea if Sebastian was still in the apartment or not.

Well, at least that settled it. Kurt scrubbed at his face and pulled the tape off the box labeled "Bedding - Kurt." He wrapped himself up in his soft purple throw and snagged a pillow to cuddle up with on the bare mattress. It was better this way, he told himself. Make a clean break and then maybe, after he apologized for being a jerk and after some time passed, at least he and Sebastian could go back to being friends.

That thought made him start crying again.

Faintly, far away, he heard a cabinet door open and shut. It made him feel better to know that he wasn't alone.

He must have slept, because the light had changed dramatically when he opened his eyes. Sun was slanting through his window at a low angle. He was twisted up in the throw and had just started to unwrap himself when the sound he realized had woken him broke the silence again. Three soft, tentative raps on his door.

“What?” he asked. He hoped Sebastian would attribute the hoarseness of his voice to sleep and not his crying jag.

The knob turned and the door cracked open just a bit, then wider. But instead of Sebastian Kurt found himself face-to-face with a huge brown teddy bear.

“Is that supposed to be for me?” he asked when Sebastian didn’t speak.

“Absolutely not,” Sebastian said from behind the safety of the door. “Aloysius is mine. He volunteered to go first in case you threw something.”

It was so unexpected that Kurt smiled. It was a weak smile, but a smile just the same. “Why do you have a teddy bear named Aloysius?”

The bear moved lower and Sebastian’s face appeared above it in the doorway. Kurt could see tension in his eyes, but he was smiling too. “My sister gave him to me as a coming out present.”

“You told your sister you were gay so she bought you a teddy bear? And named him Aloysius?”

“That’s just how she is.” Sebastian must have decided the coast was now clear, because the door pushed further open and he leaned against the jamb, carefully casual, but still holding the bear in front of him like a shield.

“I think I’d like her,” Kurt said quietly.

“You would. You kind of remind me of her. And that’s not a crack about your gender,” Sebastian said. “You’re a lot alike, that’s all. She doesn’t take my shit either; and she never lets me charm her into doing anything she doesn’t want to do.”

Sebastian pushed away from the door and took a few tentative steps into the room. Kurt sat still on the bed, clutching his blanket and waiting.

“Look, Kurt if I . . .”

“You didn’t . . .”

“No, let me finish,” Sebastian insisted. “It’s just, that’s what we do, Kurt. I call you a girl and you call me a slut. It’s always been like that. But I never meant . . . I mean, obviously you’re . . .”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt couldn’t stand listening to Sebastian try to fumble his way around an apology when he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. "It wasn't your fault. I guess I wasn’t sure what all this meant. This roommate thing. So I kind of freaked out.”

“You definitely freaked Alex out. I don’t think he’s ever going to get over the imagine of your dick in my mouth.” Sebastian moved all the way to the bed but he didn’t sit. He wrapped a hand around one post and looked at Kurt with inscrutable green eyes.

Kurt just waited. Waited for the final word, Sebastian’s confirmation that this had all gone further than he’d ever intended. That it was all over now.

“So Aloysius has a question . . .”

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Aloysius?”

“He wants to know if I’m going to be sleeping with him. Because he hates sleeping with me. I’m apparently an insufferable blanket hog.”

Kurt waited, stunned, unsure where this was going.

“And I was kind of wondering too, because I sort of bought the cheapest mattress I could find and it’s pretty uncomfortable.”

“Why did you buy it if it’s uncomfortable?” Kurt asked.

For the first time since he’d come into the room Sebastian looked away from Kurt’s face. His eyes drifted across to the window and rested there, and the light from the setting sun illuminated the sharp planes of his face, softened them, made him look more angelic than anyone like Sebastian had a right to look.

“I guess I just thought that I’d be sleeping in here,” he looked back and met Kurt’s gaze again, “with you. On those 800-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets I got you for your birthday.”

Something like hope began to blossom in Kurt's chest. “They are beautiful sheets,” was all he dared to say.

Sebastian moved forward just a little and sat on the end of the bed, his back resting against the post he’d been holding, one long leg curling up to rest on the bed so close to Kurt’s own. “I guess I thought my room was just for show. And for Rachel to sleep in whenever she and Alex have a knock-down drag-out.”

Kurt tried very hard to take a deep breath but he couldn’t quite manage it. He wanted to ask a thousand questions, about what this meant, what Sebastian was trying to tell him, if things were changing in the way it sounded like they were changing. But in the last of the dying light Kurt could see a kind of wariness in Sebastian’s expression that warned him away from probing too deeply.

And maybe that was how this worked. They’d agreed in the beginning: no declarations, no gestures. He had to ask himself, Kurt thought, whether he wanted Sebastian enough to let things go unsaid, let questions go unanswered. To just accept Sebastian’s actions and not ask for words. Was having Sebastian for now enough to live with that kind of uncertainty?

He asked himself, and he found that the answer was yes.

“Well, I’d hate to put Aloysius out,” he smiled tentatively, “considering we’ve just met. God knows it’s no picnic sharing a bed with you.”

Sebastian grinned and for the first time since he’d come into the room he relaxed, leaning back into the bedpost behind him with his usual studied slouch. “Yeah, but I give such nice blow jobs to make up for it.” And he actually preened a little, which made Kurt laugh out loud. “Now where are those sheets? I’ve been waiting since May to find out what’s so special about them.”

Kurt pointed out the correct box and Sebastian hopped up and started ripping off tape. He knew he should help but instead he stared, stared at Sebastian, Sebastian who he was apparently going to go to sleep with every night, wake up with every morning.

No declarations. But there was one thing Kurt needed to do. He could accept that their relationship might never have a conventional definition, but he couldn’t hide his feelings. He couldn’t be on guard all the time.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian stood up, the package of sheets in his hand. “Yeah?”

He got up then, slowly crossed the room, and for the first time, ever, let his mask down and just looked at Sebastian. Looked the way Sebastian had always looked at him (and everyone else he had sex with, Kurt reminded himself). Like Sebastian was the only person who mattered in the entire world.

And Sebastian looked back.


	5. Act V: Lovers

Kurt and the ring stared each other down as Rachel chattered happily to Mr. Dixon while he packaged up the sapphire and diamond earrings she had finally chosen.

“I know they’re extravagant, but my wonderful husband said I should treat myself. I mean, how many people ever get to go to the Tony Awards?”

“In New York?” Mr. Dixon asked with a laugh.

“Don’t answer that!” Rachel admonished him with mock severity.

The ring glared one-eyed at Kurt. _I’m perfect,_ it seemed to be saying. _Are you really going to walk away and leave me here?_

Yes, he was. Because things were good right now. Things were wonderful. But Kurt knew that rings and declarations and outward signs of commitment were not things that Sebastian wanted. He knew how Kurt felt. He didn’t need to hear it out loud. He didn’t need to be put in the position of having to reject it.

“Ready to go?” Rachel slipped one arm through Kurt’s. In her other hand she held a small green box with silver detailing that was almost as lovely as the earrings inside it.

“Sure,” Kurt said. He only glanced back once, to see the ring still staring at him reproachfully.

They stepped out into the warm May air, the little bells on the shop door tinkling and Rachel going on about her excitement, her dress, her perfect earrings.  
But the ring still had one last card to play. _Maybe whether or not he wants to hear it isn’t the point,_ it whispered in Kurt’s head. _Maybe the point is whether you need to say it._

“Can you just wait here for a second?” Kurt interrupted Rachel’s happy monologue. “I think I forgot something.”

She nodded but Kurt didn’t see it. He was already pulling open the door of the shop, setting the bells jangling with the force of it. Mr. Dixon looked a little startled when he appeared on the threshold, but he quickly recovered and smiled at Kurt. He took out his keys without a word, and reached to unlock the ring case.

* * *

Kurt knew he went a little overboard for Christmas. It was his very first Christmas in his very first home of his own, and he pulled out all the stops, transforming their four little rooms with the best decorations his limited budget could afford.

Sebastian watched it all in an amused but slightly detached way, tossing off little comments about Martha Stewart and pointing out that they weren’t even going to be in the apartment for Christmas itself. They were both going back to their respective parents' homes, Kurt for the week he had off work and Sebastian for almost half of his winter break from school.

Kurt made them their own Christmas dinner two nights before Sebastian was due to leave, roast goose with chestnut stuffing, seared Brussels sprouts, potatoes and gravy, and a perfect flaming Christmas pudding. Sebastian raised a skeptical eyebrow and muttered something about American food not being good enough, but he also offered a lovely bottle of wine and showed his appreciation for the effort by trapping Kurt up against the counter for slow, hot kisses in between courses.

Kurt loved this new, open Sebastian. Literally. He didn’t even try to pretend to himself that he hadn’t fallen head-over-heels in love, probably a lot earlier than even he’d realized. He never said anything, they’d agreed after all, no declarations, but he was done trying not to feel it. He was in love with Sebastian Smythe. It was bittersweet, of course, because he knew he couldn’t say it, wouldn’t get the assurance of having it said back. There was always going to be a tiny little voice reminding him to live for the now, because their future would never be certain. But that was the deal he’d made and, staring at Sebastian over that lovely wine, with the lights from their little Christmas tree tinting his hair red and yellow and green, Kurt knew he’d make that deal again any day. Sebastian was worth it.

After everything was cleared away Sebastian settled on the sofa with some papers he had to grade for the architecture 101 class he was teaching and Kurt bustled around the kitchen, putting together mugs of homemade eggnog spiked with bourbon and singing along with the Christmas carols playing on the little radio that was attached to the underside of one of the cabinets.

_“Minuit chrétiens, c’est l’heure solonnelle, où l’Homme Dieu descendit jusqu’à nous.”_

Kurt’s French harmonized perfectly with Josh Groban’s English and he quite liked the way their voices sounded together. 

_“Pour effacer la tache originelle--”_

“Aren’t you supposed to be an atheist?” Sebastian asked from the couch.

“Christmas carols don’t count,” Kurt said airily as he sprinkled nutmeg on top of the two mugs of nog. But he stopped singing and carried the drinks to the living room. Sebastian took one and smiled his thanks, then scootched his legs closer to his body, twisted a little to make room for Kurt, and turned his attention back the the papers in his lap. Kurt sat and for a minute just watched him, the play of expressions across his face as he read things that he liked or didn’t, red pen flying over the paper of some unfortunate student who obviously had no aptitude for the subject. 

Eventually he sat his mug down on the coffee table and picked up the thick padded envelope from Rachel that had arrived in the mail that day.

“What’s that?” Sebastian asked when Kurt ripped at the pull-tab.

“Pictures from the wedding. Rachel promised she’d send me a copy of anything we’re in.”

The stack of pictures was bigger than Kurt had expected, and he flipped through them slowly. True to her word, Rachel had included every single picture that contained even a glimpse of him or Sebastian. He smiled as he sorted through them. They’d looked so good that day, him in his tux and Sebastian in the suit Kurt had picked out for him. They looked happy in the pictures, smiling, goofing off with each other and their friends. Kurt laughed out loud at one, a carefully posed beauty portrait of Rachel, holding a single rose, head tilted artfully so that she looked up at the camera through long (false, Kurt knew, although he’d never tell) lashes. And right behind her, a passing Sebastian, giving her rabbit ears.

“What’s so funny?” Sebastian held out his hand for the picture and his face lit up with a self-satisfied smile when he saw it. “That’s me. Destroying pretension wherever I go.”

“You have plenty of your own pretensions, you know,” Kurt pointed out.

“Yes, but mine are all completely justified.” He handed the picture back and returned to his red-lining.

“Of course,” Kurt sighed. A few more pictures along was one that genuinely puzzled him. “Huh, I guess she stuck this one in by mistake.”  Kurt vaguely thought the couple smiling up at the camera might have been some relatives of Alex’s. Neither he nor Sebastian were anywhere to be seen.

“Let me see.”

Kurt handed the picture to Sebastian, who scanned it carefully. “I think that might be my arm,” he said finally. 

Kurt leaned over and sure enough, there was an arm in the foreground resting on the table.

“See? Sebastian pointed. “Aren’t those my silver cufflinks?”

They were indeed. “I don’t know what’s scarier,” Kurt said, dropping the picture on the coffee table, “that she knew that was your arm or that she thought we’d actually want the picture.”

“She’s your friend,” Sebastian said, as if that explained everything.

Kurt took another sip of his eggnog and continued flipping through the pictures, humming along with the Burl Ives now floating in from the kitchen.

It was the very last photo in the pile that stopped him short, and Kurt wondered for a second, while he stared at the image, if Rachel had put it on the bottom on purpose, for some kind of dramatic effect. Kurt remembered the exact moment, although he hadn’t had any idea that the photographer had his camera pointed at them.

As “Man of Honor” it had been his duty to dance the first dance with Alex’s best man, his older brother Dan. Although they’d laughed about it at the rehearsal dinner, Kurt had never meant to actually hold the poor guy to it. But when the apparently ill-informed DJ called out for the “best man and maid of honor” to join Rachel and Alex in their first dance, Kurt found Alex’s very straight brother at his elbow, bowing elaborately and handing him out of his chair and onto the dance floor to the loud whoops and applause of the guests.

It had been a slow song, but he and Dan danced it double-time, laughing like idiots. At one point Dan had grabbed Kurt’s hand and twirled him around again and again until his head was spinning and he could hardly catch his breath. Then the twirling stopped abruptly there was Sebastian, grabbing for Kurt’s other hand and smiling patronizingly at Dan.

“You’ve done well, young padawan, but I think it’s time I take over.”

Dan must have ambled off to find his girlfriend, Kurt didn’t know and he couldn’t have cared less because in one swift move he found himself pulled into Sebastian’s arms, in a perfect dance hold. 

“I didn’t want him getting any ideas,” Sebastian said as they began to move.

And that was the moment the photographer had captured. The two of them in each other’s arms, Kurt smiling up at Sebastian, his eyes still full of laughter and unguarded emotion and Sebastian, just a little more serious, one eyebrow quirked up the tiniest bit, looking for all the world like he couldn’t see or hear or feel anything but Kurt.

Kurt must have made some kind of sound without realizing it because Sebastian looked up from his papers and reached out for the picture. 

“No, it’s nothing,” Kurt demurred, but before he could slide the picture to the bottom of the pile Sebastian snatched it out of his hand. Kurt dumped the rest of the photos on the coffee table and hid in his eggnog.

“Whoa. We should get a frame for that and put it on the wall somewhere.”

Kurt was sure the breath left his body with an audible gasp, but Sebastian didn’t seem to notice. He just handed the picture back to Kurt, casually, without even looking up from his papers, as if him suggesting they hang a portrait of them dancing together on the wall was just an everyday occurrence.  
In the kitchen Burl Ives trailed off, and Hall & Oates starting doing the Jingle Bell Rock.

“Bas?” Kurt said, before he had a chance to think the better of it.

Sebastian must have thought Kurt had another picture to show him, because he reached out his hand and didn’t even look at Kurt until it became obvious that no picture was forthcoming.

“What is it?” Sebastian looked mildly concerned, so Kurt figured he must be having some kind of reaction that Sebastian could see, but inside he just felt very still and quiet. Almost numb, really, which had to be why he kept talking when he knew better. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t look for definitions. It wasn’t their deal.

But the picture was staring up at him. A simple picture of two boys who looked like they were in love.

“Are we a couple?”

Sebastian’s expression changed then, he looked at Kurt almost, it seemed to Kurt, the way you’d look at a five-year-old who’d just made some sweet, obvious mistake that only a child could. Kurt wished he had some clue whether that was good or bad.

Sebastian put his papers down, then, and when they were arranged carefully on the coffee table, the pen set neatly on top, he turned back to Kurt, still with that fond parent look. “Well,” he said, so seriously that Kurt suspected he was being patronized, “we do live together.”

“But - you have your own room.”

“Kurt, Rachel’s slept in that room more often than I have.”

He was right, Kurt knew. He wished he could work the muscles of his face - shape them into gentle encouragement or good-humored denial, if he could manage to decide which one Sebastian wanted to see - but any kind of independent choice was a fantasy. All he could do was wait for Sebastian.

“We have sex,” Sebastian said matter-of-factly.

Kurt summoned up a nod. “But we’re friends. Friends who fuck.”

Sebastian considered that for a moment. “Well, when was the last time you fucked somebody else?” he asked at last.

“April. Before we graduated. After the wrap party for The Tempest.” It was a little annoying that Sebastian seemed to be turning this back on him. “Which you know because I actually keep our agreement to tell each other.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows went up at that. “And I don’t?”

“You haven’t told me about a single guy you’ve been with since we started this,” Kurt accused.

The parent look came back, but altered slightly, and Kurt had the crazy thought that Sebastian looked just like Burt had used to, when he’d laid out all the points of a difficult homework problem then sat back to wait for Kurt to put the pieces together into a conclusion. But the only conclusion Kurt could imagine was completely impossible. And yet there was Sebastian, looking at him like the answer should have been obvious.

“So you expect me to believe that in all this time you haven’t been with anybody else but me?” He was mocking Sebastian now, starting to feel desperate for any kind of reaction, even a bad one.

But Sebastian just kept looking, waiting, letting Kurt follow the trail of breadcrumbs down the path.

And then the air left Kurt’s lungs in a long whoosh and left a negative space behind that he couldn’t seem to fill with new air. He couldn’t understand what was happening. And Sebastian just kept looking.

“You haven’t been with anybody else. but me?” He hated how high and thin and weak his voice sounded.

Sebastian shook his head. Which, some crazy rational splinter section of Kurt’s brain argued could actually mean no, he hadn’t slept with anyone else or no, he hadn’t not slept with anyone else, but it was pretty sure that there could only be one answer that would make Sebastian look so serious.

This was impossible. This was not the world Kurt lived in. This wasn’t the deal he’d signed up for. And he was too far into shock to remember that it was the deal he’d wanted for a very long time.

“But I have!” He almost shouted it, like an accusation. As if it was somehow Sebastian’s fault that Kurt hadn’t been faithful; hadn’t even suspected that there was anything to be faithful to. “Travon, from the play, and that basketball player from Columbia that I danced with at that club that time, and, oh, God, my relapse with John after Alex’s birthday party . . .”

“I know,” Sebastian just nodded, “you told me, remember?” He smiled faintly. “The John thing actually scared me a little.”

He couldn’t - he couldn’t get it to make sense in his head. That the Sebastian who’d sat through Kurt’s full-disclosure confessions hadn’t been hiding his own hookups. He hadn’t been having hookups at all. Kurt had been the only one. It was entirely possible that everything Kurt had ever thought was true about his relationship with Sebastian . . . wasn’t.

“So, yeah,” Sebastian said and he looked about as vulnerable as Kurt had ever seen him, “we live together, we don’t fuck anybody else, we dance at weddings, I’d say we’re a couple.”

There were so many things Kurt wanted to say. Questions he was starting to suspect it would be okay to ask after all. Sebastian might not like them, but he’d answer. They were a couple. Sebastian was his boyfriend. Sebastian freaking Smythe. Was his boyfriend. Maybe they didn’t need gestures or declarations, but they could have definitions, at least. He could totally ask for definitions. He could give voice to questions that had been milling about in his head since the very beginning and Sebastian wouldn’t run for the hills. Sebastian would answer him. And here, sitting on the couch in the twinkling light of the Christmas tree, with Brenda Lee now providing the soundtrack, Kurt could see that Sebastian was actually expecting that. He was waiting to give Kurt whatever other answers he needed.

So Kurt didn’t say a word. He climbed across the couch, right into Sebastian’s lap, and kissed him, kissed his boyfriend like he needed Sebastian’s mouth to live. He pushed Sebastian’s lips open and practically invaded his mouth with his tongue. His hands tugged at the hem of Sebastian’s soft henley; slid up under it over bare skin, kneading at muscles, searching for nipples.

Sebastian made a tiny, surprised noise and pulled back just enough to ask, “What are you doing?”

In one swift move Kurt pulled Sebastian’s shirt up over his head and off. “Reciprocating,” he said, and he dove for Sebastian’s chest, pulling a dark nipple into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue until it was peaked and hard. Sebastian groaned and Kurt heard his head thump against the arm of the couch. 

“God, I love the way you do that.”

He moved on to the other nipple, slowing down now, making decisions. He worked his tongue over sensitive flesh until Sebastian’s every exhale was half a moan, and then he moved lower, down the hard, flat abdomen, tracing the rim of Sebastian’s belly button, nosing along the waistband of his jeans. He could feel a fluttering tremble in the muscles under his lips as he pulled Sebastian’s jeans open and unzipped his fly. Pants and underwear were pushed just low enough that his hard cock could spring free and Kurt sank down over it in one long, wet slide, sucking hard, like he’d been waiting his entire life to get Sebastian’s dick in his mouth.

“Hey, stop!” Sebastian tugged urgently at Kurt’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Kurt pulled off to ask.

Sebastian tossed his head in the direction of the bedroom. “Condom,” he said. They’d never blown each other, like this, without a condom. It was one of the rules.

Kurt shook his head. “Let’s not,” he said. 

Sebastian just stared at him.

Kurt smiled from there between Sebastian’s legs, one hand stroking his cock as he spoke. “I haven’t been with anybody else in eight months. It’s even longer for you. And we both got tested in October so . . . let’s not.”

A tiny part of Kurt worried that Sebastian might see this as a test. If he was lying, if he’d actually been with other guys, there was no way he’d let Kurt blow him bare. But it wasn’t, not at all. Kurt had known it was true the moment he’d put the pieces together. And this was his way of proving that to Sebastian. That he knew there was no risk.

That, and he just really wanted his boyfriend to come in his mouth.

Sebastian must have gotten the message, because his lips slowly pulled into that predatory grin Kurt loved so much. “Go for it, babe,” he said, and he dropped his head back again, closed his eyes and flexed his hips to push his dick through the circle of Kurt’s fist.

Kurt went for it. He took Sebastian as deep as he could, sucked hard and fast as he pumped. The feeling of Sebastian’s bare cock in his mouth, the taste on his tongue, was even more erotic than he’d imagined it would be and the sounds Sebastian made were so different with these new sensations - Kurt’s own cock pressed rigid against his fly and he rocked it gently against Sebastian’s leg without faltering in his rhythm even the tiniest bit. 

“God, fuck, Kurt, you have no idea how good that is,” Sebastian intoned above him and one of his hands found Kurt’s head, anchoring itself gently in his hair.

Kurt moaned and hummed, licked and nipped, teased and tickled until Sebastian was writhing under him, pushing up into his mouth with little thrusts that he couldn’t seem to hold back no matter how hard he tried.

“Shit, I’m coming!” Sebastian’s hand went flat and rigid against Kurt’s head but Kurt didn’t pull away. He sucked harder then flicked his tongue as fast as he could against the swollen head of Sebastian’s cock until Sebastian cried out and the first pulses of come filled Kurt’s mouth. Then he sank down again, suckling, drinking, pulling every drop he could into the back of his throat and swallowing it down while Sebastian shuddered and gasped.

When he finally looked up, Kurt found Sebastian looking at him with dark, intense eyes that seemed at odds with the loose relaxation of his body. “Thank you,” he said, and Kurt knew he meant for more than just the blow job.

“My pleasure.” Kurt crawled up the couch and settled himself against Sebastian’s bare chest. He could hear Sebastian’s heart pumping furiously under his ear.

“It will be,” Sebastian promised, “as soon as I catch my breath.” He wrapped his arms around Kurt and stroked gentle fingers up and down his back.

Kurt’s body was still straining, but it almost didn’t matter when he was in Sebastian’s arms like this, rising and falling with his chest, the taste of his come still sharp on his tongue. “It’s okay, we’ve got plenty of time.”

Sebastian’s lips brushed the top of Kurt’s head. “Merry Christmas, babe,” he murmured.

So apparently “babe” was going to be a thing now. Kurt was perfectly okay with that.

“Merry Christmas, Bas.”


	6. Epilogue

“Speech!”

“Speech!”

Rachel started the rallying cry, but their friends along the table quickly took it up, and even some of the other restaurant patrons joined in - their attention previously attracted by Rachel’s typically ostentatious birthday toast.

Kurt stood up, over the remains of his Black Forest birthday cheesecake, and waited for his friends to quiet down.

Everyone he cared about was here. Rachel and Alex, of course, a few of his friends from NYU, almost the entire cast of the play he was in, which had surprised and gratified him, even one of Sebastian’s friends from his department at school, Gareth, and his boyfriend Ricky, who they’d both become close to over the past several months. And of course, Sebastian, sitting just to his left and smirking up at him in a way that left no doubt what he was thinking. _Come on babe, enlighten us with the wisdom of your twenty-five long years of experience._

And down at the far end of the table, the biggest surprise of all. Kurt had been so shocked that he’d cried when he’d opened the apartment door on them that afternoon, his dad and Carole and even Finn, who’d brought his newest girlfriend (and if anyone noticed her more-than-passing resemblance to Rachel, nobody was stupid enough to comment on it). Finding them on his doorstep had seemed like a sign to Kurt that what he'd planned to do was right.

Now if he could just make the feral butterflies that were migrating from his belly to his throat and back again believe that.

“Well, thank you Miss Berry,” he began, inclining his head graciously in Rachel’s direction.

“Could we please use Mrs. Whitaker when she’s not actually on stage?” Alex piped up. Rachel elbowed him without taking her attention off of Kurt.

“In case you don’t know,” Kurt continued, “Miss Berry is going to be singing at the Tony Awards this summer as part of the cast of Roll Me Over.”

“A very small part,” Rachel demurred.

“I thought there were no small parts?” Burt called from the end of the table.

“That,” said Severt, who had the lead in Kurt’s play and was definitely a few sheets to the wind at this point, “is a myth created by actors not talented enough to get big parts.”

Everyone laughed, and Sebastian reached across Gareth and Ricky to offer Severt his fist. The actor just stared at it, looking vaguely quizzical, until finally Ricky grabbed his hand and bumped it against Sebastian’s for him.

Kurt took a few slow, deep breaths, willing his voice to stay steady. His hands were shaking - he shoved them in his pockets, where the right one closed around the little velvet ring box. “I know this is my birthday, but I actually have a present for someone else.” 

There were some surprised murmurings, and Carole leaned over to whisper something in his dad’s ear.

“A while ago,” he plowed on, “back when we were in school, Sebastian told me that I wasn’t a romantic.” 

There were both noises of denial and knowing nods at that; Kurt waited them all out before he spoke again. “He said I loved having guys make a fuss over me but I never wanted to go to the effort of making a fuss over them. Which apparently made me self-involved, not romantic.”

“I believe the word I used was narcissistic,” Sebastian chimed in helpfully. “Which is starting to apply to this speech, too.”

People laughed at that and Kurt took another deep, steadying breath before he turned to speak directly to Sebastian. “I thought you were right, I did, but lately I’ve been thinking that maybe the reason I never made those big, romantic gestures was because I never really found anyone I thought it was worth making them for.”  
His heart was pounding so fast and loud he was sure everyone could hear it and he clutched the box in his now-sweaty hand. Sebastian had gone still, just staring up at Kurt with an expressionless face, and for a wild moment Kurt wondered if he was crazy to be wanting to spend his life with someone who, in his most terrifying, life-defining moments, never seemed to be able to give him a shred of even silent reassurance.

“And that’s why I’m doing this here, in front of all our friends, not to pressure you into saying yes--” Sebastian’s eyes went wide at that “--because I know you’re going to say no and that’s fine, really, I swear, I won’t be upset, we’ll go back home and have amazing birthday sex, and keep on going just like we have been. I’m perfectly fine with that.”

The entire table had gone completely still and Sebastian, Sebastian just stared at him, looking alarmed, or maybe wary, or maybe Kurt just needed to stop trying to guess his boyfriend’s reactions from his expression because that never seemed to work.

“I’m doing it like this,” Kurt’s voice was shaking now and he didn’t even try to control it, “because that’s how big romantic gestures work. And because I want you and everyone here to know that when I say I love you, this is what I mean.”

He stepped back from the table, lowered himself to one knee, opened the box and offered it.

Sebastian didn’t even glance at it. He just kept looking at Kurt with that unreadable expression and everything disappeared, there were no more friends gaping at them, no food, no clink and clatter of tables being bussed, no restaurant, nothing at all but Kurt and Sebastian and an impossibly beautiful ring made of negative starlight.

And, after the longest moment of Kurt’s life, Sebastian leaned a tiny bit closer to him and said, “Would you be doing this if you thought there was a chance in hell I’d say yes?”

“I want you to say yes,” Kurt confessed, “I want that as much as I’ve ever wanted anything. But it doesn’t matter, because I want you even more. And I promise, I’m yours, however you want me.”

The box trembled between them. Finally, finally Sebastian lowered his eyes to it. When he spoke his voice was a little rough and and heavy.

“It’s a beautiful ring.”

“It’s one of a kind,” Kurt said, a little inanely, given the circumstances, but he desperately needed to say something. “The man in the jewelery shop gave me the designer’s card. He said maybe we could get him to make another one to match it.”

Sebastian lifted the ring carefully out of the box, cupping Kurt’s hand as he did so, and Kurt could feel a tiny quiver where Sebastian’s fingers touched his. 

“How could I say no to a ring like this?” His voice was somehow still casual but his eyes bored into Kurt’s like he expected him to panic at the slightest hint of yes.

And Kurt was panicking. He was panicking because some rogue part of his brain that he couldn’t seem to subdue was starting to think that this might be an acceptance and he’d said he would be okay, he’d wanted to be okay when Sebastian rejected him but he knew he couldn’t be if he actually let himself feel real hope.

Then the ring was sliding onto Sebastian’s finger, and Sebastian’s hand was sliding around the back of Kurt’s neck, pulling him up close for a long, gentle kiss, just soft lips moving together in perfect rhythm and one tiny brush of Sebastian’s tongue against his, and then, as they pulled back, “I love you too,” whispered against the corner of his mouth in the exact spot where Sebastian’s lips had touched him for the very first time in his dorm room so long ago.

Kurt pulled away just far enough that he could see Sebastian’s warm green eyes and tilting smile. Sebastian loved him. Sebastian was wearing his ring.

“So, does this mean we’re engaged?” he asked, because he had to be really, really sure before he could let himself cry.

“We’re engaged,” Sebastian answered simply.

“They’re engaged!!” The world came rushing back then, their friends cheering, people at other tables clapping; he was grabbed and hugged over and over and he had no idea who was embracing him because he couldn’t see through his tears.

But in the midst of the maelstrom he felt a hand touch his and Sebastian, enduring his own share of hugs and back-thumpings, squeezed hard. Kurt could feel the metal of the ring, warmed by Sebastian’s skin, press into his own.

* * *

  
Sebastian insisted on being in charge of Kurt’s ring. He took the card, and called the metalsmith, and ignored all of Kurt’s protests about wanting to have some say in a piece of jewelry he’d be wearing every day for the rest of his life. When it was finally done he didn’t make any big production and Kurt didn’t expect him to. That wasn’t Sebastian’s thing. He handed Kurt the box at the end of a quiet dinner at the local Italian restaurant they loved.

Kurt had expected a twin of the first ring, but instead, nestled inside the velvet box, he found it’s exact opposite. If Sebastian’s ring was a negative of the night sky, with dark stars on a white background, Kurt’s was the night sky - silver darker than he’d ever seen studded with sparkling white flecks. 

Sebastian took the ring out of the box and slid it onto Kurt’s finger, then held their hands up so the candlelight reflected off the metal.

“So do you think you’ll be able to stand wearing it every day for the rest of your life?”

“Well,” Kurt said airily, though his throat was uncomfortably tight, “if I can put up with you I guess I can put up with it.”

“Oh, you are totally getting the better end of this deal,” Sebastian scoffed. “I’m the one who’s going to have to eat goose every Christmas now.” He made a face and shuddered elaborately.

“What’s wrong with goose?”

“What’s wrong with ham, or turkey, or any of the other things that normal people eat?”

Kurt’s fork fell from his hand and clattered onto his plate. “Are you implying that the entirely of Great Britain isn’t “normal people?”

“Great Britain, Kurt. A country not exactly known for it’s culinary genius.”

Kurt gasped in horror.

Around them people at other tables began to stare.

Neither of them gave a damn.


End file.
